


The Pot and The Kettle

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-31 02:27:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21049463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: General McNamara, an unexpected threat to the continued operation of the team under the leadership of Lieutenant Craig Garrison.  Lieutenant Garrison, intent on protecting his team, his men and getting the job done.  In the end, were they really all that much different? Though they would have argued the point, from the viewpoint of a knowledgeable observer, it was more a case of the pot calling the kettle black.





	1. Prologue

General McNamara arrived at London HQ to review oversight of Special Ops and Special Forces, and the clique containing Major Kingston quickly started working on him, feeding him a steady stream of information. About most of the teams, of course, and little of it complimentary since Kingston wasn't a fan in general, but overwhelmingly negative in particular about that odd group of men now known as Garrison's Gorillas.

Oh, their stories were convincing, their own opinions quite obvious, ranging from stories about the cons and their backgrounds, their attitudes, their misdeeds, along with some strong doubts about Lieutenant Craig Garrison himself, about whether he was just too soft, too inexperienced, too naive for the job of handling a team like that. 

That started the general to thinking, wondering whether Garrison's disreputable team of cons maybe DIDN'T need a stronger, more experienced leader - whether Garrison himself wouldn't be better suited with having a more conventional group of men to lead. 

What would it take to convince the general (and perhaps a few of the other doubters at HQ) that the leader of Garrison's Gorillas was a lot of things, but soft just wasn't on the list? A friend and colleague suggested that a little misdirection might help. Unpleasant, to be sure, yet to keep his command, his team together, it just might be worth it. 

It became more difficult when a mission came up and the still unconvinced general sent his own Major Dupree along for the ride. While it turned out to be impossible to keep up the pose in the field, it also turned out there was more to Major Dupree than they'd initially thought. 

It might mean it all hitting the fan when they got back home, but when it came down to protecting each other, caring for each other when the bullets fly and the blood flows, neither Garrison nor his men could, would step aside. And heaven help Major Dupree if he tried to get in their way!


	2. Early Warning

"All I can say is that someone is exerting influence on the general, Garrison, and you need to be on your guard. There seems to be some question arising as to whether you have the force, the determination, the sheer strength of will to control your men," Major Richards admitted. "There's been talk about reassigning you to a more conventional command." 

He'd decided against using the word 'soft' that he'd heard in that last conversation. Looking at the grim faced young officer, sweat-soaked fatigues still clinging to his body from leading his men over the obstacle course, and off the tower jump, and who knows what else, Richards decided he would only sound utterly foolish. Garrison was a lot of things, including stubborn as hell, but he wasn't soft, not in any way that counted.

Still, he had to acknowledge that he'd wondered that himself in the beginning, whether Garrison was strong enough (or maybe detached enough) for the job he'd been given, though the American officer had soon dissuaded him of that misapprehension, at least about the first part if not the second. One mission in the field, a mission where Richards, if not Garrison, had considered those four men as 'expendable' in order to get the job done, had convinced Richards of that. Under Garrison's leadership, they'd pulled together, that disreputable team, completed the mission when Richards and his team had been unable to do so; did so even with the knowledge that they'd been set up to fail - no, set up to perish, acting as a stalking-horse for the Germans - all for the good of the job. They'd even brought Richards back in one piece, which he found rather surprising. There certainly had been opportunities for that NOT to have happened.

These men were a handful and a half, no sensible person would argue with that; probably no sensible person would try to lead them, either, but Garrison seemed to be able to keep them on target. Well, at least while on assignment. They DID seem to get into more trouble than Richards would have preferred or tolerated, but Garrison seemed to feel the trade-off in valuable skills was worth any extra effort required in keeping all four wheels on the ground, as it were. Richards had come to the same conclusion, though he wouldn't have liked to voice that aloud for fear there were those who'd start to think HE'D gotten soft.

Whether General McNamara, new on the scene, would come to the same opinion, that the results were worth the effort, that was the question. McNamara was quite influential, and even if he wasn't scheduled to be here very long, his intervention could have some serious consequences. Consequences Richards felt would be highly detrimental to the war effort, which of course was of the greatest concern. Well, highly detrimental also to Garrison and his men, and although Richards felt a trifle odd at being so concerned about that, still, that was the case. He was willing to admit to a growing respect for them; the growing fondness he would NOT admit to, especially since it was against his own preferences, certainly against his better judgement.

And, when it came right down to it, those negative consequences for Garrison and his men could have some severe consequences to himself as well, if certain other parties (specifically certain female parties) decided Richards bore some responsibility for those unfortunate results. 

{"No, Meghada and her sisters, the entire family most likely, will be most annoyed, and I imagine Julie will have a few things to say as well."}. 

Well, his younger sister Julie knew him quite well, could find all sorts of ways to make his life miserable. The last time he'd seriously annoyed her, she'd managed to sic Madge Ruffort on him; it had taken him weeks to shake the blasted woman, her with her sly hints and giggles that were highly inappropriate for a woman of her age. For some reason, Julie had decided to look on Craig Garrison as another brother, and would probably defend him heartily, just as she had in the past.

"He's really rather like you, Kevin," she'd told him. "Capable, talented in so very many ways, but so clueless in many others. Still, rather sweet." Then she'd smiled, far too knowing a smile, "as I said, much like you, capable, sweet and clueless." 

That whole conversation still made him shudder, only grateful she'd confided all that in private, not where anyone could have heard. He had NOT asked her what she meant, either about Garrison or about himself; he knew all too well she'd be likely to tell him, and he wasn't sure he was ready to hear any of it. {"I gladly accept the 'capable', but 'sweet and clueless'??!"}. That was NOT how the stolid British officer saw himself in the least.

And Meghada, Ciena and Coura, even Caeide O'Donnell? Meghada had firmly adopted the whole team, in one manner or another, and where one sister led, the others were sure to follow. He shuddered to think of what they might come up with. Midnight visitors, ala Charles Dickens 'A Christmas Carol', would probably be the least of it. Their father and brothers had plenty of tales to tell about what the females could come up with when their tempers were engaged, and Richards had a few experiences of his own along that line. He HAD known the family for a goodly number of years, after all. No, if a word to the wise could keep the O'Donnell sisters off his back, he'd not hesitate. 

Though just what Garrison could do about the situation, he didn't know for sure. But Richards did have an idea or two, a little harsh, perhaps, more than a little devious, but at least worth discussing. Although he was pretty damned sure Garrison was going to object.


	3. Good Intentions

Yes, there was undue influence at work, purposeful influence, some would say influence with malicious intent. No, it didn't work in quite the way Major Kingston and a few others intended for it to work, considering the unexpected, indeed the very ODD way in which the general processed the information, but perhaps, if they were lucky, it would have the same result - that result being bad news for Lieutenant Garrison and his Gorillas.

Major Kingston and his cronies had thought to arouse the new general's suspicion and distrust of Lieutenant Craig Garrison, along with, of course, his team of cons. What they managed to do instead was arouse a sincere concern in the newly-arrived general FOR the young Craig Garrison. That an officer with obviously so much potential would suffer by his involvement with this odd idea of putting cons in the field, that his future, both personal and military, might be damaged. That the stain of his team's reputation and activities would somehow spread to him. For, from what the general was hearing, that was already happening, and was, in his eyes, totally unacceptable.

What Kingston and the others hadn't taken into account was that General McNamara had a soft spot for up and coming young officers, a strong paternalistic streak, if you will. And if that seemed unusual in a man who had no children, no sons to follow in his footsteps, perhaps it should not have been unexpected after all. Well, look at how he'd taken young Jason Dupree under his wing through the years, to the point now the now-Major Dupree was the general's right hand man. 

"And I have to say, Jason, that it's a real shame," General Leonard McNamara bemoaned to Major Jason Dupree. "I've read his record, both before this mad idea and more recently, and he is the kind of young officer our military needs. Smart, inventive, thinks outside of the box, dedicated to getting the job done. I think I might just need to take a hand, see what can be done to get things back on track. Perhaps get him a different command, one where his talents can truly shine; turn those men over to someone with a stronger hand, someone more accustomed to maintaining severe discipline."

"Do you really think that's necessary, Leonard?" Dupree asked, doubt evident in his voice. "From anything I've read in the reports, and a great deal of what I've heard, he AND his team are doing an admirable job. Oh, I know what you're getting from Major Kingston, Major Johns and a couple of others; I've heard them. I'm talking more about the rank and file, the non-coms connected to the teams, the other Special Forces teams themselves, where I'm getting MY info. There's criticism, yes, about some things, but there's some solid admiration and respect there as well, for Garrison AND the team."

He took another sip of almost-coffee, and gave a grim smile. "And frankly? Kingston isn't someone I'd be paying too much attention to anyway. Remember Smithers, out of the Academy? Always going around with a scrunched up face, pursed mouth, spouting something nasty about anyone he felt didn't give him enough deference? Anyone he felt didn't fit 'the proper mold'? Sneaky little sort, you remember? Always scheming, telling tales, trying to cause trouble, all the while pretending it was all just for 'the good of the command'?"

McNamara snorted. Oh, he remembered all right. One of those Smithers thought to lord it over, tell tales about was young Jason Dupree, and the one he'd made the mistake about telling those tales to? The then-Colonel Leonard McNamara. {"Wonder where Smithers is these days?"}

"Well, I do see the resemblance, of course. Still, I've gone over those records, the ones for the men on his team as well, and they obviously are the type to need a very strong hand. Garrison seems to have many admirable qualities, but I just have my doubts about whether he is strong enough to handle men like that. We're not talking soldiers who've gone through boot camp, through military training, you know, ones who understand how to accept discipline. These are true wild-cards, very different from each other; trying to make them pull together, that would take someone with an iron hand and will. No, I'm just not sure . . . "

Jason Dupree shook his head, accepting that General McNamara was determined to take Craig Garrison under his wing. He'd seen it happen before, and while that could be a wonderful thing for a young officer's career, he had a feeling the interference would not be welcomed in this instance. He agreed the men needed a strong hand, or at least a way of controlling them. He just had a feeling Garrison had found a way, whatever that might be, a way that worked, and that it would be a mistake to interfere in something that was obviously working.

It didn't take much to have the general assigning HIM to get to the bottom of things, and Major Dupree admitted to himself that he was more than a little interested in how things really stacked up. A few chance encounters, here and there, a casual introduction, then he really started to get somewhere. He hadn't heard, not yet anyway, what had the lieutenant railing at his team, but he intended to be around to find out, to see how Garrison handled the problem.

And when it happened? He still wasn't quite sure what to think.

{"Interesting, very interesting. Not exactly what I expected. I expect Leonard will find it encouraging, but I have to admit to a little disappointment. Well, perhaps I was expecting something else, maybe more with a little more finesse. Still, if it works . . . "}


	4. A Masterful Con

Garrison hadn't wanted to do it, but understood the necessity. What was particularly upsetting, besides their stoic acceptance when he'd reluctantly discussed it with the guys, was the response when he told them "so we'll see it leaks out what Casino did to piss me off so badly . . ." 

He was quickly interrupted by Goniff shaking his head emphatically.

"No, that won't do, Lieutenant. Can't be Casino. Oh, yeah, 'e'll be the one you bash, right enough. That should work just fine."

That gaining him a mocking look from their safecracker, along with a sarcastic "thanks, buddy. I'll do the same for you some time!"

Goniff didn't let that stop him. "Looks better, see, w'at with 'im seeming the one 'andiest with 'is fists. Makes you look like a real tough guy, and ready to prove it. But it can't be 'im w'at got you so riled. 'As to be one of us. Well, me or Chiefy, any'ow; gotta be someone lower in the pecking order, as them looking on would see it, and that wouldn't be Actor, now would it?"

Garrison had frowned, perplexed. "But that doesn't make sense."

Actor had shaken his head, ruefully acknowledging the pickpocket was right. 

"It makes a great deal of sense, Craig. If one of the others, lower, as Goniff put it, in the pecking order, broke the rules, got into trouble, then your punishing Casino would put pressure on the whole team. It would motivate us at the higher end perhaps to keep the others in line in the future. If disobedience by any one of us could cause any or all of us to be punished, after all . . ."

"That's right, Lieutenant, that's w'at I mean. Punishing one of the others, making the w'ole team responsible for w'at any one of us does. That's taking a 'arder line than just punishing the one w'at ticked you off. Tack on some other punishment for the w'ole team, then, that'd be the capper, you see."

Chief and Casino were exchanging long bitter looks, with Casino explaining to a still bewildered Garrison. 

"Some of the screws worked it that way, ya know. Someone in the cell block got caught doing something they shouldn't, everyone paid; one of the toughest guys paid the most, took the hardest lumps. Kept the pressure on any real screw-ups to straighten up. Sometimes the screw-up stopped screwing up; sometimes he stopped breathing if it went on too long and the tough guys got tired of taking the lumps."

Garrison shuddered, "and I'm supposed to follow that example?"

"Well, not for real, acourse, Lieutenant; that just aint your style. But should make this general think twice about deciding you're being too easy on us, you know," Goniff explained earnestly.

And they set it up, making sure their observer was close enough, and it went as planned. And it made Garrison just as sick to his stomach as it had when they were just discussing it. No, more so.

"Hell, Warden, my ten year old cousin can throw a harder punch than that, and Marie's little for her age," Casino reassured him, making a deliberate point of not even wincing as Actor examined his grazed jaw. 

That wasn't true, of course; Garrison couldn't afford to have pulled the punch that much, not enough to be obvious, no matter how it had sickened him to hit one of his men in the first place. Still, hopefully that, along with the tirade canceling a non-existent leave, had been the capper, the last thing Major Dupree needed to see to make his report back to the overly-attentive General McNamara. Hopefully the report would make it clear that when a firm dressing down hadn't done the trick, Garrison hadn't hesitated to take stronger action, action that had put the men firmly in their places - grudging, maybe a little sullen, but obedient and back in line once more. 

Well, the guys had played their parts right on cue, Casino turning on Chief when they were all leaving, snarling a quick threat about "getting yer ass in line! Not taking any more lumps for any of yer bullshit, Indian! And you too, light-fingers!" Actor had looked grimly agreeing with that, and Goniff had looked downright apprehensive.

Actor tried to reassure Garrison. 

"You had to make a choice, Craig, and it was not an easy one. In some quarters, your reputation has been enhanced by the impression you have given with that performance; in others, it probably has been diminished. With some, those who know you better, there will be some amusement at what they will most likely recognize was a masterful con. 

"There was no way it was going to be a win-win situation; you know that. You took a bad situation and made of it what you could, to protect and preserve the team." 

Actor could see he needed to steer the conversation in a somewhat different direction, before Garrison could wallow any deeper in the angry guilt he was obviously feeling. 

While Actor could understand the man's feelings, even appreciated them, still, he'd only been saying what was obviously true. And it wasn't the first time one of them, probably each of them, had taken punishment of one kind or another to protect the whole; unfortunately, it was unlikely to be the last. 

So, now, a different tack was in order, one he was sure the other quick-minded cons would pick up on and join in with, hopefully enough to distract Garrison from his self-flagellating frame of mind.

"And while General McNamara was mistaken to single you out, Craig, he was not entirely wrong, you know, with his over-all concern about the leaders being firmly in control of the men on their Special Forces, Special Ops teams. Not all of the team members," Actor struggled to control the urge to choke at his own next words, "are as sensible, reliable and responsible as yours are, you know."

Garrison narrowed his eyes, looking at his second in command, at that earnest expression on Actor's face. 

"Uh huh. Like with showing up at the briefing looking like you'd all been in a bar fight. Smelling like you'd fallen into a vat at a brewery after doing a few rounds on the obstacle course. Sensible, reliable and responsible like that?" His voice was flat, free from all expression.

Actor had the grace to look a trifle sheepish at that. Not so much the others. Well, Actor HAD wanted them to jump in, and he wasn't to be disappointed.

"Well," Goniff argued with a squinched-up nose, "not like we 'adn't been, Lieutenant, at least w'ere the fight was concerned. But, I will say, in our defense, them Army boys was just asking for it. Not 'ardly our fault it got right messy. Was one a them w'at knocked the plug outta the bunghole on the keg so it went spurting everyw'ere. WE aint likely to go awasting good beer like that!" 

"Uh huh," Garrison repeated, that jaundiced look now centered on his resident pickpocket, Goniff still nursing more than a few bruises, favoring his left side on account of those two cracked ribs. Though, to be honest, only part of that was from the bar fight; at least half of the damage, if not more, was from the last mission, pitching down a rocky hillside when he'd almost gotten his head taken off protecting Chief and Casino from that ambush from 'friendly partisans' who'd turned out to be something quite else. {"Surprised he didn't break his neck."}

"Yeah, Warden. You coulda ended up with someone like Murphy, or Vane, maybe Bodie, or even another Wheeler. When it comes right down to it, you kinda DID have a win-win, even if it was just luck of the draw," Casino drawled, mouth twitching. "Never mind all the rest, not everybody's got our skills, or our good looks, or our out-and-out charm, ya know."

"Uh huh," the safecracker got as a dry response, though Garrison was thinking hard about that job in Norway. That had been one damned tricky setup they'd walked into; if Casino hadn't been able to figure out right up front which one of those safes was the real thing, which were rigged to blow, the safecracker AND most of the team would have been blown sky high, Garrison included.

Looking over at Actor, he could see the battle the tall con man was having to keep his face under control. Garrison had been set up, he knew it, but damned if they didn't have a point - well, more than one.

He thought about the men Casino had named. No, he didn't envy Davis or Reynolds having to deal with those first two. Ainsley had been stuck with Bodie for two or three missions, and still would start cussing a blue streak when his name was mentioned. 

Murphy was a total screw-up, and only because his brother was pretty high in the ranks was he even tolerated. Micah Davis had repeatedly requested the man be transferred elsewhere, ANY where else, but so far no luck. Knowing Davis and his intolerance for general incompetence, especially connected to his team and their missions, you just had to wonder if the said brother wasn't trying to prune the family tree the easy way while keeping his own hands clean.

Vane was so money-hungry, Garrison wouldn't have trusted him with the church collection box, much less the safety of a team when it would probably would only take the waving of a handful of bills under his nose to have him spill everything he knew about a job, or turn his head at the wrong/right time. 

Goniff swore the man was taking street drugs, his face showing his disgust at the notion. Goniff's lines on what was okay and what wasn't were pretty firmly in place, (if not particularly consistent or discernable to the naked eye), and booze and smokes fell on the okay side, drugs far on the not-okay side. 

"Aunties, you know, Lieutenant - the 'ard stuff. Can't turn your back on someone doing that; they're caring about their next dose more'n anything else, and not overly particular w'at they 'ave to do to get their 'ands on it." 

Garrison had tipped Reynolds the wink on that savvy diagnosis, and sure enough, the man had been discovered making a buy the night before a mission, using information about said mission instead of cash as a medium of tender, putting a fast end to his place on the team.

Garrison was pretty sure his guys kept their eyes peeled for some of what Goniff called 'portable assets', maybe running into trouble because of that, but he didn't have to worry about any of them selling out the team to get their hands on those portable assets. And other than a thirst, of varying degrees, and an addiction to tobacco, his guys didn't mess with anything that was going to mess with their minds or their skills. Well, other than women, Actor and Casino somewhat more than the other two.

Bodie was, well, Ainsley had never come up with one word that best described the man. A bully, certainly. A liar and troublemaker, yes. Also someone always looking for the easy way out, in a position where too many times there WERE no easy ways, either ahead OR out. 

The man had tried to skip out on them during a mission across the way, but had run in the wrong direction and had been blasted to pieces by a German patrol for his efforts. 

Ainsley had written the obligatory letter, but privately confirmed to Garrison that he really had to work to come up with the right words. 

"After all, saying he was supposed to be guarding the rear, while Len was patching up the rest of us from that firefight, but when he saw the patrol, decided he'd just slip away, make a run for it and leave us to it? Doubt that would have gone over well. At least now his folks think he went down fighting, not running to save his own skin."

Wheeler? Well, one experience with a man of Wheeler's sort had been more than enough. Garrison couldn't really come up with any regrets for no longer having THAT one on the team any more; he'd never wanted him there in the first place, had felt he was a wrong one from the beginning. If there were still a few unanswered questions about the man's death, none of them affected his confidence in his wheel-and-knife man. He'd be damned glad to have Chief at his side, guarding his back, and the team's, anytime, something he sure as hell could never have said about Wheeler.

Chief gave just a faint huff of what might have been amusement. Garrison's green eyes met those dark ones staring at him out of a enigmatic face. Then, just the slightest twitch of the young man's mouth confirmed that amusement, as he offered HIS take on the situation. 

"Maybe the general's just jealous, Warden. Figures if he can scare you off, he can get us ta come work for him. Whatta ya think, guys? What with us being so sensible, reliable, along with having all those skills and good looks 'n charm 'n all?"

Snorts of amusement from Casino and Goniff, a wry smile from Actor, and a long sigh from Garrison, accompanied, finally, by a slight semblance of a smile.

"Yeah, Chief. That's probably it. Sorry, looks like I screwed that up for you. Looks like you're stuck with me for now."

He took a moment to look around the room. His tall aristocratic conman, his brash safecracker, the taciturn wheel and knife man, and, of course, his troublesome little pickpocket cum second story man. 

So, alright, in some ways, sensible, reliable and responsible they weren't. But in others, others that just might matter more, at least in their current situation, they actually were. He wasn't about to give them up, not a damned one of them, not if he had any say in the matter. And from the satisfied looks on each of their faces, that was just fine with them.


	5. A Closer Look

Garrison had thought that was the end of it, the general ready to back off, maybe decide to cast questioning eyes over someone else. 

No such luck. While that last report from Major Dupree had gone a long way, still General McNamara was no fool. Somehow it had all been just a little too neat, too convenient in the timing of that altercation.

"No, I'm not doubting you, Jason, you know that. I just believe what we need is a closer look, more from the inside, you know. Sometime when the heat is on, when they can't orchestrate the setting. They have a mission coming up, something rather simple, nothing too dire, I believe. I think a neutral observer might be just what I need. I'm sure Major Kingston can come up with someone appropriate."

Jason Dupree hastened to object. He'd formed an opinion, of Garrison and his men, but also of Major Kingston as well, and that last wasn't overly-favorable. Yes, Kingston DID have a lot in common with Smithers. If it had been someone other than Leonard McNamara that sneaky bastard had gone running to with his gossip and innuendos and sly suppositions, Jason knew he wouldn't be where he was today, and he knew damned well everything Smithers had been spouting had been a total bunch of bull.

"I really think that would be counterproductive, Leonard. Oh, an observer, yes; that's a very good idea; see them in the action, under pressure. But NOT someone put forward by someone who's already proven they have an agenda. You know, I think I'll tag along. I haven't been in the field in awhile; I really do need to keep my hand in, you know."

No, McNamara was never happy about Jason being out in the thick of things, but he knew he couldn't very well keep the younger man at his side all the time. And Jason was highly intelligent, very intuitive. Yes, that might work quite well, provided the team could be trusted with the wellbeing of someone McNamara valued so highly. A word with Major Richards, the Handler on this proposed mission, was definitely in order.

Kevin Richards had heard the general out, and thought carefully how to respond. It was a tricky situation, after all, one where the wrong word, the wrong emphasis could do more harm than good.

"General, I assure you, Lieutenant Garrison is a highly-effective officer, handles his team better than anyone else I can imagine. The rumor mill doesn't always have all the facts, or interpret what they DO have correctly, you know, and even if it does, often prefers to stir the pot more than might be desirable. Amazing some of the things they can come up with when they get bored; some people work crossword puzzles, some manipulate the grapevine."

Richards was a little surprised to see that waved aside; seemingly that wasn't the reassurance the General was after. He was a little relieved when he heard the actual question, but only a little, since it opened up a whole new avenue of concern.

"Well, there is danger in any mission, General, no matter how benign it looks on paper, in the planning stages. I've been on more than a few that took a highly unexpected turn. 

"However, if you are concerned about how your, um, 'interest' in the lieutenant and his team might affect your major's wellbeing, you can set that aside. I can think of more than one or two instances where they were either sent out with, or entrusted to retrieve individuals they would not have looked kindly upon, and those individuals arrived here safely. 

"I have to admit, on my first mission with them, I gave them more than due cause for them to have preferred for ME not to return at all, if they'd so decided; yet, here I am, and more than willing to speak on their behalf. Surely that says something."

Of course, there were another one or two instances where Richards had his suspicions that was NOT the case, but he was sure that wouldn't be the case here. He'd met Major Dupree, felt him to be sensible and solid, not someone who would cross any lines so far as to make an 'unfortunate incident' necessary.


	6. Just a Bundle of Surprises

"You're kidding me, right?" Garrison replied, hope and frustration both battling for expression. While this proved McNamara hadn't decided AGAINST him, precisely, it did indicate the general still wasn't convinced.

"Unfortunately not, Lieutenant. However, it could be much worse. Major Dupree isn't just a desk jockey; he does have SOME field experience. And from what I can tell, he ISN'T looking to have your head; if anything, he seems to be supporting you and your team, though General McNamara is still not convinced."

Garrison sighed. "Well, it could be worse."

"Indeed it could be; there are many others who might have been given the task; I'm sure Major Kingston could come up with a few names, probably Major Johns as well. No, I would recommend thanking your lucky stars it's Dupree. I would ALSO recommend your men not get up to any mischief along the way, AND that you bring Major Dupree back safe and sound."

Garrison gave a snort. "Yeah, I doubt the general would be all too happy if we lost him somewhere," ignoring the first part of that admonition. Well, what COULD he say? {"Like asking a duck not to swim!"} 

"Alright, I'd better start acclimating him to the team, or maybe the other way around. How much time do I have?"

The answer was not what he wanted to hear. Knowing they'd be taking off in ten hours with basically a largely-unknown element in the form of one Major Jason Dupree just didn't give him the level of confidence he would have preferred. 

Jason Dupree wasn't sure what he'd expected, maybe some automatic snap from the laconic, wise-cracking men he'd seen before to trained troops? A move toward what some in HQ had warned him about, what he'd been given a brief glimpse of, a sullen, resentful, untrustworthy crew having to be pushed and shoved every inch of the way? Whatever he expected, this hadn't been it. 

In fact, there hadn't been just one 'IT'; the whole mission had been a series of twists and turns, not just in the mechanics when the intel proved to be faulty, but in what was revealed by the attitudes and actions of the men themselves. ALL the men. It had been enlightening, to say the least.

It had started on the plane ride over, right after that hastily moved-up takeoff (ten hours turning into less than three), with "ruddy 'ell! We forgot to stop at the Cottage. Blimey!" that last exclamation from the little pickpocket close to being a long drawn-out wail of despair, matched only by the look of dismay on Casino's face.

"Naw, Goniff, I gotcha covered," Chief drawled, pulling a small pouch, from his inside pocket, opening it and pulling out a cheesecloth bundle. "Meghada handed me a box of em before she left, just in case."

Dupree just looked bewildered as Goniff snatched the pecan-sized object and tucked it into his cheek with alacrity, closed his eyes and leaned back, sighing with relief.

Noticing the Major's expression, Garrison explained. 

"Goniff gets airsick."

Casino chimed in "and seasick".

Actor added "not to mention car sick. If we found a dirigible or a flying carpet, we would probably discover those made him sick as well. Pretty much anything that moves."

Goniff protested, his words only slightly flawed by the lump in his cheek, "don't get sick in the swing, I don't, or the 'ammock neither!"

Garrison snorted, "yes, well, unfortunately neither of those can transport us to where we need to be, Goniff." 

He continued to explain. "A friend, a neighbor, makes up herbs that helps keep it under control; if our supply's low, we usually stop by her Cottage to pick up more, but she's been out of town, and frankly, we just forgot. Thanks to her forethought AND Chief, though, you don't have to experience the misery that is Goniff in the throes. I assure you, you're lucky!"

Dupree noted that even with the herbs, Casino and the others kept a close watch on the Englishman, Chief steadying him at one point when it seemed he'd drifted into a doze and a fast dip of the plane put him at risk for tumbling from the seat. Casino was the one to explain, "makes him drowsy for awhile. We'll bring him around, make sure he gets a drink of water about ten minutes from the jump zone; he'll be fine after that."

Somehow Dupree hadn't been expecting that level of easy concern between the men.

It happened again when they were taking shelter in that small cave, wider at the front, narrowing significantly at the rear, the overhead stone also dropping dramatically the farther back you went. They'd taken up positions in the order they'd entered, Chief taking point and scouting the area before he'd whistled the others in. 

Now, after not too long, Dupree heard the quiet whispers, then the shifting of positions. Goniff had made his careful way to the rear, into the looming darkness; then Chief was moving to the front, to right beside the entrance. 

Again, it was Garrison explaining.

"Chief needs to see the sky if he can; Goniff doesn't much like the dark or small spaces, but he handles it a lot better than Chief does. And that space is too narrow for anyone else but me, and I need to be up here to keep an eye on things; besides I'm headed out with Actor to meet with our contact in about twenty minutes. He'll move up closer once the two of us are gone."

Dupree frowned in thought. "And Goniff tolerates that, being sent into the dark, being more closed in, so Chief doesn't have to be?"

"He wasn't sent; he made the switch himself. We each have our quirks, Major, me included. We work with them, we work around them, and we look out for each other. We're a team." 

Garrison wasn't sure Dupree understood what he was saying, but he'd decided this mission was an ideal opportunity to help the major understand just how the team worked, if there was any chance of that. There were some men it would not have worked with, where the capacity simply wasn't there, but he had a feeling Dupree might be different.

And Dupree watched and learned. He watched as Goniff procured keys, then uniforms, then did his second story work to gain admittance to a secured area. He watched as Actor and Garrison transformed themselves into the very epitome of aloof German officers. He watched as Chief disappeared into the shadows, and a couple of hours later, reappeared just as silently in a driver's uniform with a gleaming staff car at their disposal; as Casino located and opened first a concealed wall safe, then a second one hidden in the floor, grinning at the task.

Still, as the mission was drawing to a close, not just Goniff, but everyone on the team breathed a sigh of relief.

Then it all hit the fan, not because of anything any of them had done, or not done, but because a man who was SUPPOSED to be in Berlin, a man HQ intel had ASSURED them would be in Berlin for another two weeks, showed up. 

Now Garrison was presented with both a problem and an opportunity - the problem of how to take those last vital steps in their assignment with Von Gruder on site, along with an opportunity to get a look at those papers the German industrialist was supposedly carrying. 

Leaning against the wall in the small house Actor had rented, staring out the window, Garrison thought about the possibilities, weighed the odds, and made plans.

"Ei now, Major. Don't you worry none. The Lieutenant, 'e'll think of something. Always does, more'n we'd like most times. Course, probably get 'imself all bunged up along the way, but we're getting used to that. And just you watch - 'e'll tell you "I'm fine, don't fuss, I'm just fine." Course, 'e'll be leaking all over the place, most like, or if not that, something just as bad, but don't worry, 'e's fine. You don't think so, just ask 'im!"

Goniff had given Dupree a cocky, conspiratorial grin, though casting a slightly worried, oddly concerned look over at the young officer engaged in staring out the crack in the window.

"Goniff," Actor had remonstrated softly, casting a considering look at Dupree. 

Yes, if their little pickpocket had seemingly become very accepting of Dupree, obviously their experienced conman hadn't totally. 

"Yeah, Goniff, stop talking the Major's ears off," Casino chimed in. "You can talk more and say less than anyone I ever met, ya know? Well, other than my Uncle Carlo. Now, he could drone on for hours, and come to the end, no one would have any idea what he was talking about. Course, don't know that he did either, but that never stopped him. Just like with you."

"Let him alone, Casino. The major probably finds it soothing, like listening to a waterfall; don't have to be saying anything, just the sound, never ending, never changing," Chief added. 

Actually Chief was right, Dupree realized with some degree of surprise; he HAD found it rather soothing.

Goniff seemed to pout at all that. 

"Well, see if I share my 'ard-earned wisdom and experience with any of YOU again! Blimey, no respect, do you see that, Major? Why, you'd think . . ."

"I'd think maybe you should let me do the talking for awhile, Goniff," Garrison finally spoke up, but not in a harsh way, almost as if he found all that quietly amusing in a way. Dupree found that unusual, but noted there was no argument, no resentment, just an easy shifting into waiting mode for the men, including their Cockney. 

{"Maybe Garrison found it soothing too, or maybe even inspirational,"} he thought with some amusement, not realizing just how close he was to the truth.

"Alright, this is the way I see it . . ."

"See, you just don't know 'im like we do . . ."

It was twelve hours later before Dupree was able to sit back, catch his breath and review what had gone before. 

{"Leonard wouldn't believe it, any of it. Hell, I'm not sure I'm even going to be able to describe it, all of it; there's a part or two I'm not even sure I believe and I was right there! One thing's for sure, anyone who breaks up this team is damned stupid. Anyone who even TRIES to break up this team is just asking for more trouble than they've bargained for! I'll convince Leonard of that, somehow, even if I can't do the same for the rest of the fools in that clique."

He looked at the men sprawling in among the rocks of the cliffside where they'd taken shelter. All trying to get their breath, Chief at front guard, Casino taking up the rear position but equally on guard. Actor was busy patching up Garrison, while Goniff was doing the same for Dupree. The little Cockney met the major's eye, grinned wryly, jerking his head over at their lieutenant. 

"See w'at I mean? Can get 'imself bunged up walking across a dance floor, most like, but always the ideas, always the plans, and them working out the way 'e says, mostly any'ow." Goniff frowned down at the bandage he was winding around Dupree's arm. "There, that should 'old you til we get back. That is, if we're GOING back, and I 'ave my doubts about that," he admitted with a resigned shrug. 

Dupree looked the question, eyebrows raised. After all, they'd accomplished their mission, even with the added complications, and the exit was planned for just six hours away.

Goniff shrugged again, glancing over at Garrison once again. "Yeah, I know. But see, Major, you don't know the lieutenant, not like we do, anyways. As often as not, just w'en we think it's all over, we can 'ead on 'ome, the lieutenant there 'e comes up with something else we "might as well do since we're 'ere". Coo, 'as more ideas than a w'ole encyclopedia, 'e does. You get yourself a dozen like 'im, could probably ditch all the rest of ruddy HQ, you could."

Garrison finally motioned Actor away with an impatient wave of his hand, and uttered that obviously all-too-familiar phrase (at least by the knowing looks on his team's faces).

"I'm fine, Actor, just fine! Don't fuss! Alright, guys, listen up; I've got an idea, since we're already here."

Dupree knew then that Goniff had been right - they weren't going home, not just yet.

And when they finally did manage an exit . . .

"Lieutenant, has anyone ever expressed the sentiment to you that you are perhaps an OVER over-achiever? That you have ambitions that are perhaps just a little OVERLY ambitious? That you've lost your everloving MIND??!" 

Yes, perhaps not the most calm, cool and collected way of expressing himself that Dupree had ever heard himself give, but certainly heart-felt. If this was an example of what Garrison could come up with on a mission touted as 'rather simple, certainly nothing too dire', the major just had to wonder what would happen on one considered complicated or highly dangerous!!

That weary grin he got from the young officer showed no resentment at those words, only a cheerful acknowledgement.

"Yes, Major, frequently. Mostly by my men," looking around at the team sprawled around the deck of the fishing boat spiriting them away from the scenes of their latest escapades. 

Garrison suddenly frowned, "speaking of being overly ambitious - Goniff, hand it over."

That got a look of surprised innocence from their slightly-green pickpocket. "W'at, Lieutenant? Don't 'ave any idea . . ."

The seemingly-irritated snap of Garrison's fingers, his stern look and outstretched palm with its beckoning fingers got a sheepish grin from the other man. 

"Ah, you mean THAT! Well, see, Lieutenant, it was just laying there, and I figured you'd 'ave some worthy cause you might want to send it off to. Maybe Sister Therese, or the orphanage, or even those maquisards back in France. Most likely be better appreciated than with that German big shot. Know a likely fellow w'at'd give you a decent price for it and all."

Somehow, from what he'd seen of Goniff's slight of hand skills on this job, the Major wasn't surprised to see that jewel-studded watchcase appear as if by magic in the pickpocket's hand.

"May I?" Dupree asked, and after a questioning look at Garrison, getting a nod, Goniff handed it over. 

"Very nice, Goniff. I have to admit, I saw it laying there, but I was standing right alongside and never saw your hand go anywhere near it." 

He felt the others waiting, probably wondering if he'd noticed the ring set with the large emerald laying next to that watch - a ring that had NOT been brought out in response to that challenge, obviously wasn't intended to be handed over to Garrison. Dupree let the suspense build a little, then let a smile of appreciation cross his face, a very genuine one. 

"Think you can teach me some of that? Looks like it might come in handy. Along with a few other things you guys managed this trip."

Turning his attention back to Garrison, he complimented the team. 

"Your men have some solid skills, Lieutenant. I can see why you value them so highly." 

When Goniff leaned in to retrieve the watch, Dupree raised one questioning eyebrow, and his voice was just low enough to reach the pickpocket's ear. "You forgot the ring, I think. Imagine Garrison will be wanting that as well," getting a knowing and amused look in return. 

In a voice just as low, Goniff replied, "wondered if you'd seen that. You 'ave sharp eyes; you 'ave fingers just as sharp, we'll see w'at I can teach you, ei?"

Turning to Garrison, the pickpocket made a show of holding up and admiring the watch, then handed it over to Garrison; then, digging into his pockets, he exclaimed, "oh, almost forgot about this little trinket, Warden. Should bring a pretty penny too, don't you think?"

Garrison gave him a suspicious look. "I wouldn't be surprised. This all of it now, Goniff?"

The look of offended innocence was almost more than Dupree could bear to watch without breaking out into a laugh. He had a feeling this was a scene that had been repeated more than a few times.

"Warden! I'm 'urt, cut to the quick, I am! Why, you KNOW . . ."

"Yeah, yeah, I KNOW alright. Alright, guys, let's get a move on."

That quick glance exchanged between the guys gave Dupree the idea that that had NOT been all of it, but he was finding all of this far too interesting to kick up a fuss.

Somehow, during the trip out, the extended mission, and this waiting for retrieval, Dupree had gotten a solid appreciation of these men, AND the lieutenant who led them. Now, just how to convince them he meant them no harm, AND how to convince Leonard that they were a valuable resource, well-oiled, well-managed, and that the last thing any right minded person should do would be to interfere.

They were met at the docking bay by a weary redhead in rough clothes, just back from an assignment of her own. Major Dupree, standing off to the side watching Garrison talking with the dock watch, also watched with interest the easy warmth of the interaction between the woman and the team, knowing there was probably a story to tell there, as well. 

"You just back, 'Gaida? Thought you'd beat us back by more than a little, w'at with the lieutenant getting one of 'is wild 'airs," Goniff asked her, wide grin on his face.

"Aye, just back, laddie. Seems Jerry had a wild hair of his own this trip. Will be nice not to spend any more time in some foul-smelling tin can for awhile, that's for certain; about had my fill. Thought when my Contract ran out I'd be doing a lot less of that, you know? Tell you what. We don't get a call to head back out, you and the others think you might relish dinner tomorrow night? You know spending some time in the kitchen relaxes me, and I could certainly use some relaxing."

Dupree was too far away to hear what the pickpocket replied, though he saw the sly cheeky smile and quirked eyebrow that accompanied those unheard words, but it got a quick burst of warm laughter from the young woman. 

"Well, might as well be sure, just to play it safe; I know Kevin would want me to be TRULY relaxed if I have to head back out again soon. If you don't think this mission was too wearying for you? Wouldn't like to put any strain on you," she said teasingly, only to get a quick shake of that flaxen blond head and a vigorous denial from the Englishman.

Dupree could only wonder at the groan Casino let out, or the complaining tone of his voice when the safecracker appealed to the others. "Not even back twenty minutes and they're already at it. Sheesh! Those two! I never will understand . . ."

Chief drawled, not a smile showing, but with a twinkle in his dark eyes, "yeah, Pappy, we know. As long as they do, I guess it don't matter too much if you do or not."

Introductions were made, and Dupree made a note that he wanted to check to see what he could find out about this young woman, Meghada O'Donnell, seemingly also known as The Dragon; there was something just ever so slightly familiar about her, the eyes, the hair, the name. 

And if there was something in her glance that made him think he probably shouldn't talk about this familiarity with Garrison's team with anyone else, well, as Goniff had noted, the major DID have sharp eyes. And luckily for everyone, his mind was equally as sharp.

By then Garrison was back from checking in with the dock patrol. "Alright, we're heading out. Meghada, you want to ride in with us?"

It was a surprisingly light-hearted, if exceedingly weary, group that made their way back to the grim outline of the stone block building that made up London HQ, and if the young woman had been annoyed at having to ride on Goniff's knees, his hands at her waist helping to keep her balanced, the occasional turn causing them to sway together, well, she hadn't complained, nor had he. They parted ways in the corridor outside Major Richard's office. 

"Tomorrow night, don't forget," Meghada called after them as she turned to make her way to an unknown destination.

Garrison raised an inquiring brow. "Tomorrow night?"

Actor answered smoothly. "We have an invitation to dinner at the Cottage, Craig. And, if you can spare him, I believe Goniff is going to assist her with a few odd jobs, perhaps the garden, inventorying the supplies, tomorrow. You know, the usual." 

Garrison returned that knowing look, looked at their pickpocket trying to maintain a very responsible, even self-sacrificing look on his mischievious face, and not succeedingly overly-well. 

"Uh huh. We'll see. You sure that watch and ring was the lot of it?"

"Warden! Search me! 'Ave me turn out me pockets! Swear you won't find a ruddy thing!"

Well, Garrison was pretty sure of that himself, figuring whatever else there HAD been had been handed off either to one of the other guys or perhaps Meghada. {"Yeah, most likely Meghada, since she's not here anymore."}. 

Glancing at Major Dupree, he sort of figured Dupree had the same idea but was deciding not to say anything. Somehow, he had the feeling Dupree had taken a look at some line and had decided which side to come down on. {"Well, it can't hurt to have one more in our corner."}

"Well, come on. Let's get this over with and head home. Major, if you're serious about the guys maybe giving you a few pointers, give me a call. We'll see what can be arranged."

After his debriefing, Major Jason Dupree made a point of stopping by the file room, using his attachment to General McNamara to get access to the file for Meghada O'Donnell, code-named 'The Dragon', seemingly also known to many as 'The Ice Queen'. The file, along with the odd notes off in the margins, raised his brows more than once, her record even more, and when added to what he'd seen, had heard on that cold dock, he had more than enough to keep his mind busy for awhile.


	7. Major Dupree Levels

Major Dupree HAD made that call, had come down to the Mansion, spent some time in learning at least the beginning steps of a few new skills. He fit in remarkably well, was welcomed on his own behalf, not just on behalf of the two quite-drinkable bottles of whiskey he'd brought with him.

And over a glass of that whiskey, he offered some reassurances.

"Don't worry about Leonard, General McNamara, Lieutenant Garrison. He can be a bit of a stick sometimes, but he really means well, you know. And he wasn't being malicious; he was impressed with you, with what you've accomplished; he just listened too much to a couple of unpleasant types up at HQ and started worrying about you, your career, your future. He gets rather paternalistic sometimes. 

"Well, Leonard's old school military, and there's good to that, as well as otherwise, but it does make him difficult to turn once he sets his sights on something. Rather like an aircraft carrier, you might say. Still, I know how to handle him, always have," Major Dupree confided with a relaxed laugh.

Actor gave him an appraising look, asked in a low voice, "power behind the throne?", only to get an amused laugh from the man at the implication. 

Yes, Dupree rather THOUGHT the conman might have gotten the wrong idea, {"maybe even the RIGHT idea, though; I might be underestimating him, them. They are a sharp lot, to be sure."}

"So says my Aunt Maddie, though I really think that title should go to her equally as well. Says between Leonard and myself, we make one hell of a good officer, just one with the advantage of having two bodies, you know. Well, perhaps she's prejudiced, being, uh, 'acquainted' with Leonard all these years. Of course, in my opinion, she'd be twice the officer of the two of us combined. Certainly manages the two of us quite efficiently." 

Goniff chimed in, "yer Aunt Maddie? Your mum's sister, then?" He had a weakness for aunts, having a remarkably fine one himself, his own mum's sister, Moll.

"Cousin, I believe, of some degree. My mother and father died shortly after my birth, I'm told, while visiting her. A carriage accident, I believe, and having no other relatives willing to take on the task, Aunt Maddie adopted me. There was a bit of a stir at that, of course, in some circles, her being so young and not being married, but there is no one more fiercely determined than my Aunt Maddie when she sets her mind to something. As far as she was concerned, I was hers, to love and raise, and she's never stood aside from that. Anyone questioning that through the years has gotten the sharp edge of her tongue and more. A remarkable right hook, as a few have found out to their sorrow, though she has a powerful knee as well." He shook his head fondly, remembering a few of those occasions.

Goniff blinked at him vaguely, thought for a moment, and then nodded firmly in approval. "Lucky, that. Not good for a tike to be on 'is own, and 'aving someone that wants 'im something fierce, is willing to fight for 'im, be canny enough to find a proper way to care for 'im, that's rare enough in any case. She knew the general back then, did she?"

Meyer grinned at the impertinent little Cockney, those eyes so full of false innocence backed up with a calm knowing. 

"Oh, yes. I've known Leonard all my life, you might say. Always called him that, too, just like Aunt Maddie always has. Of course, he wasn't a general back then, but there was little doubt he'd wind up there someday. Taught me to hunt, to fish, to play chess and poker, how to gauge a good cigar and good whiskey, and a hell of a lot more. And you're right, Goniff. I'm lucky, having Aunt Maddie, having Leonard. There's none better, no matter what odd starts he can come up with sometimes."

Garrison was relieved that Goniff hadn't mentioned that, except for the coloring, Jason's dark hair and eyes, his bronze-tinged complexion to McNamara's blue eyes and overall fairness, Jason Dupree bore much the same physical makeup as Leonard McNamara, though maybe twenty years or so younger, and that none of his men had questioned that story. Well, at least not out loud. 

{"Though - a line drawing, minimizing the coloring, of the two men at the same age? Doubt anyone could avoid seeing it. Well, it's easy to see why there's such a bond between the two. Though that's not always the case, of course,"} thinking wryly of his own parents' relationship with him and his sister Lynn. 

{"Wonder why all the secrecy, why they didn't just marry? She wasn't married; perhaps he was? Oh, well, none of my business. We just lucked out Dupree turned out to be a reasonable man; not bad in the field either, which is saying something. If we hadn't been able to bring him back alive, our collective goose would have been thoroughly cooked!"}


	8. The Pot and The Kettle

Back in London, in the General's quarters, Leonard McNamara listened, pondered, then just to confirm, asked Jason, "so, hands off? You're sure?"

"Yes, quite sure. Well, unless there's ever a time when we might lift a hand to give them whatever support they might need. I wish you could meet them." He paused to take another sip from his glass.

"Well, yes, you've 'met' them, I know, but not man-to-man, Leonard. Kingston and his ilk - they've got it right and got it wrong, all in one. Yes, Garrison's men are quirky, and sly, and larcenous, and I imagine they could, either individually or as a group, get up to all kinds of trouble."

"They're also loyal, and determined, have a wide range of knowledge and talents, and have more guts than I'd ever have expected. And Garrison is exactly the right man to be in charge; they like and respect him, are willing to go through hell for him, and with him in the lead, they could probably pull off things no one else would even dare to try. And I'd love to have Aunt Maddie meet them, along with that Miss O'Donnell, the one HQ calls The Dragon, among other less flattering things. They'd all get on like a house afire, I can tell you that."

Jason laughed, pouring them both another drink. "Remember the stories Aunt Maddie told about her great-grandfather? The stories HIS father had told HIM? All about the family they'd known, the ones everyone in the whole village looked at as being the leaders? They were named O'Donnell, as well. How the men and the women were all so fierce, how the men fought that band of marauders that tried to burn down their community with knives and swords, but how it had been the women, three generations of them, who had terrorized the invaders and driven them out into the open to be cut down, to the very last man. About the women, not really women anymore, running through the night, coming at the invaders from nowhere, all fangs and claws and fur and yellow eyes all aglow? 

"That's what Meghada O'Donnell reminds me of, and there's this feel about her, like it wouldn't take much to have her do exactly the same should the need arise. Has the same unusual shade of red hair he described, too, though her eyes are more amber than what I'd call yellow. Got the impression she'd do just about anything to protect Garrison and his men, too, and if that took growing claws and fangs, she'd manage it somehow. Though I wouldn't go mentioning that; I gather they don't go brandishing that about, the connection between her and the team, I mean."

Leonard McNamara laughed as well. "I remember those stories Maddie told; always told her they'd give you nightmares, but they never did. Gave me a few, I know that! Sometimes, at night, headed in to Maddie's place after being away for awhile, I'd think I saw yellow eyes glowing from the woods, thought I could hear the padding of feet keeping pace with me. She'd laugh and tell me not to worry; that 'they' meant no harm, they were just keeping an eye out for the two of you, and me as well."

He frowned, "but I don't much appreciate him, all of them, trying to pull the wool over my eyes with that earlier performance. Doesn't say much for his underlying honesty, his integrity, now does it?" 

McNamara frowned into the dying embers of the fireplace, trying to make sense of the shapes and shadows forming there.

The slight sound of amusement he heard from Jason surprised him, and the knowing look in the younger man's eyes surprised him even more. 

"I would think you, of all people, would appreciate his actions, Leonard. No, it wasn't what he would have preferred, most likely; he probably found much of it distasteful. I know he felt the necessity for striking Casino most troubling. 

"Still, in order to protect those he cared about, those it is his BUSINESS to care about, his responsibility to care FOR, he was willing to deviate from what he would have preferred. Just like many others have done. Just as you yourself have done, am I not right - Father?"

Jason inhaled deeply from the cigarette he'd just lit, then smiled into the deep blue eyes of Leonard McNamara, honorary uncle, mentor, superior officer - father. 

"Jason . . . ". For the first time in a very long time, Leonard McNamara was speechless. That smile, it was Maddie's, and held just as much wry knowing, just as much mischief as hers always did. 

Lord, how he missed her! If this damned war ever ended, he was headed back to his love, and never again would he go a'roaming. It was time he thought about retiring anyway. His wife could have the house and the social status and everything that went with it; none of that mattered, never had really.

He looked over at his son, and quietly asked, "do you want to hear the whole story?"

Jason looked into the fire for a long time, then turned to McNamara. 

"I'll let that be your decision. You've kept it to yourself this long, probably for reasons you felt were quite sufficient. If it's anything that will interfere with what we are trying to accomplish, it might be best to wait. Otherwise, yes, I'd like to know, to better understand."

And so they talked deep into the night, and for the first time Jason heard the story of a young boy, visiting relatives in a remote part of Louisiana, and an even younger girl, living close at hand, running wild in the freedom the summertime gave. 

Of an affection that grew to love, even with the vast difference in their station; of a child conceived during a summer several years in the future, and the machinations of his parents, so appalled at the thought of merging their bloodlines with others not nearly so 'pure'. They'd promised to take care of her while he was away at training, and it was only her own wariness that kept her from allowing them access that would have ended with her being, somehow, out of their and their son's life.

Of Leonard's being told of her death from a fever not long after, before he could get back to find a safe haven for her, certainly before the child was born, of having seen her grave; of his grieving for her, and accepting a transfer to a station quite far away. 

Of how he had returned, two years later, to once again place flowers on her grave, only to see the old symbol scratched on the cold headstone - the symbol they used when they were arranging to meet. 

"So you realized she was alive. What then?" Jason asked.

"I searched in the place we usually met, found the letter. I went to her, of course, found her AND you, but by then I had married Lenore. 

"No, I didn't love Lenore; how could I? And she didn't, doesn't love me, either, if you haven't noticed. It was a business arrangement from the very beginning - a marriage between my family's money and her family's name, for the purpose of propelling my father and her brother higher in the political and social scheme of things; letting her swan about with all the pomp her avaricious, social-conscious little heart desired. 

"And after I'd been told Maddy was dead, after I visited her grave that first time, I simply didn't care anymore, not about much of anything. I'd let myself be persuaded; I never did forgive my parents for that deception."

They were quiet for a time. 

"I was furious, of course, at the trickery; wanted to go to Lenore and demand a divorce. Maddy convinced me otherwise. Well, there were few places we could have married legally, she and I, at least in the States, probably elsewhere as well. My parents weren't the only ones who would have disapproved of her bloodlines. 

"We were just lucky to have a congenial spot where it wasn't considered unacceptable for us to share a home together; the place, the whole community, belonged to those she said were old family friends, and I could only be grateful to them for sheltering her when she needed that, continuing to offer all three of us that shelter throughout the years.

"She said Lenore having my name was unimportant to her, as long as SHE held my heart. That we would find a way to let us have our own joy, let the others bathe in the cold ashes of their propriety to their own content. And we did.

"I focused on my career and Maddy and you, though having to be away from both of you far more than I would have liked. Lenore led her own life, had her own place in society. People became accustomed to seeing her out on her own, me being least-in-sight. Well, I was never the social one, and pretty much restricted myself to such socializing where my being accompanied by 'my very good friend Maddy Dupree' would go unremarked. That became less and less over the years, except within the community that sheltered all of us; Maddy said it would not be beneficial to my rise in rank, but frankly, I was more than content spending what free time I had in our own home, with her, with you, than swanning around town anyway." 

He was quiet, they both were, nursing their drinks, thinking, remembering.

"And you are right, of course. It was painful, in many ways. But necessary to ensure your safety and well-being, your future, yours and your mother's. And I count any blow to my own integrity, my 'honesty' well suffered in that regard. So I suppose I can't fault Lieutenant Garrison so much after all. 

"And, yes, I would like to meet them on their own ground, on their own terms, so to speak. If you can speak of them with such approval, such fondness, then I am sure I will find many, if not all, of my original misgivings at fault."

Jason laughed, "well, don't go expecting angels, now. They're rascals, every last one of them, but damned likeable ones, and men I'd rather have at my back than a lot I've met. I can't tell you the specifics of that job we were sent on, of course, names and places, but the rest? Do I have a story to tell you!!!"


End file.
